


Vanilla

by courtneyarnelle



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, F/F, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 03:59:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2373689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courtneyarnelle/pseuds/courtneyarnelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their sex life is always so vanilla until a particularly stressful day such as today had been. And, in an effort to distract her, Ymir would spice things up.</p><p>And so far, she hadn’t disappointed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vanilla

It had been a sorely stressful day at work. When Historia slams the front door of her and Ymir’s apartment door behind her, Ymir hardly even sits up to acknowledge her. The darker haired woman spares a quick glance in her direction, and then her light brown eyes go back to the television.

Historia is too irritated to even take notice of her girlfriend lying casually on the couch. She storms past her and into their bedroom. The blonde kicks off her heels at the entrance to the room and rips the hair tie from her hair. Her messy bun cascades down to a curly mess on her shoulders and she vaguely recognizes Ymir’s voice calling out to her from the living room.

Historia throws the black blazer from her shoulders and onto the floor, and she rifles through her drawers searching for something more comfortable to change into. A warm hand gently grasps her shoulder and Historia stiffens before she realizes whose hand it is.

“Ymir.” She sighs, eyes closed.

“What’s wrong?” Ymir asks, and she sounds genuinely concerned with her issue.

“Work.” Ymir hums in understanding, Historia job was stressful for her most days. It's a temporary job, until she can find a better place to make a better wage. The hand on her shoulder slides down her arm to her waist, then Ymir flips her around and presses her back against the dresser, the force of the action closing the drawer behind her.

“Ymir—,” Historia’s words are extinguished by a pair of lips on her own, and she attentively raises her hand to settle on Ymir’s freckled cheek as she, eventually, kisses her back.

It's a simple, gentle kiss. Their lips just barely moving, and there is just enough pressure between them that Historia feels the tension slip away and Ymir pulls away once she's relaxed.

Historia opens her eyes and looks upwards to see Ymir bent over her, eyes staring directly into her own baby blues and her cheeks color.

“Whose ass do I have to kick?” Ymir asks her, eyes darting briefly down to Historia’s parted lips, then back to look her in the eye.

“No one’s. I can take care of it.” Historia’s hands fist in the hem of Ymir’s t-shirt, and she looks down at her hands. “I’m just frustrated.”

“Frustrated?” Ymir’s voice is betraying her distraction. The hand that isn’t still firmly gripping her waist pushes her blouse away from her shoulder, and Ymir’s lips press against soft skin. Her teeth graze against her and Historia lets out a breath.

“Mhmm.” Historia hums and tilts her head back as Ymir presses slow kisses along her collarbone, then up the stretch of her neck. Ymir lets out a hot breath against her lips and Historia’s hands fly to Ymir’s collar, pulling her into a heated kiss.

Their teeth gnash together from her haste, but the brief discomfort is ignored as Historia nips at Ymir’s bottom lip. All her previous frustration vented into the movement of her lips against her girlfriend’s.

Ymir’s fingers fist in the hair on the nape of her neck, matching Historia’s fierce kisses. Historia felt herself being lifted, and within seconds being laid gently on the mattress of their bed. Ymir makes quick work of removing her blouse and discarding it.

Her hands trail up her bare sides and to her wrists, pinning them somewhere above her head. Ymir’s lips slow as she becomes distracted by some task and Historia parts their lips in favor of kissing along her strong jawline. The blonde is so focused on keeping her mouth on Ymir’s skin, she doesn’t notice she's being restrained until she feels Ymir tighten the fabric around her wrists.

“Hey!” Historia protests and she glares at Ymir who's smirking at her, the glee at her achievement glittering in her eyes. The tips of her girlfriend’s fingers slide down the length of her arms, stretched high above her head, and settle on her waist.

Historia ignores Ymir’s large hands, warm against her exposed skin, and looks up at her wrists. They're bound in a tight knot to the headboard of their bed. She tugs against the restraint to no avail, and then huffs in annoyance at her failure.

Historia turns her glare back to Ymir who is just looking at her, lip caught between her teeth and Historia half-relaxes into the sheets seeing she isn’t going to be let loose. Ymir’s strong hands squeeze her waist, before her hovering warmth is gone and Ymir is walking out of their room. Historia calls after her, but is ignored.

The blonde knows Ymir definitely won't just leave her tied up without doing anything to her, so she sinks into the soft bed beneath her and sighs. Having no choice but to wait for Ymir to return.

It's only a few minutes later when Ymir returns with a pint of unlidded vanilla ice cream in her hand and a spoon in her mouth. Historia raises an eyebrow at her and Ymir just smiles, pulling the spoon from her mouth and scooping out a small amount of ice cream. She eats it and hums in approval.

“Want some?” She offers, holding the pint toward Historia who turns her head in mock disdain.

“You know, I’ve always preferred chocolate, Ymir.”

“Oh _really_? Because, just last night I _specifically_ remember a certain blonde midget I know begging me for some _vanilla_ ice cream....”

“How many tiny blondes do you know?”

“Just one.” Ymir spoons another scoop into her mouth, then she takes another and lowers it to Historia’s mouth slowly. Historia swallows pondering rejecting the offer, but eventually, opens her mouth to receive the melting ice cream.

Probably on purpose, not all of it makes it into her mouth, but she swallows what does.

It slides down to her chin and along her neck, and Ymir’s mouth catches the spill before it has traveled halfway down her neck. The brunette suckles on her skin, before her tongue follows the trail left by the white liquid. And, she pulls away just as her tongue grazes Historia’s lip.

Historia lets out a labored breath and she tugs involuntarily against her restraints. Which makes that cocky smirk reappear on Ymir’s lips.

She sets down the pint and pushes up the cups of Historia’s bra, exposing her breasts, but not attempting to fully removing her bra.  Then, her hands move to cup Historia’s butt which makes her whimper slightly. Ymir guides her hips upward so that she can unzip the back of her pencil skirt. It's pulled off, folded neatly and set aside. The freckled woman then rolls her thin tights down her legs. Finally, she slides her panties down her bare legs. Historia watches her eyes travel along to length of her small body after the last garment is removed until their eyes meet again.

Ymir seems to debate where she is going to touch her first, then her hands cup her breasts and squeeze them in her hands. Historia makes a sound of approval and Ymir runs gentle thumbs over her hardened nipples.

Sounds of pleasure continue to leak from Historia’s mouth, and she keeps her narrowed eyes on Ymir's face, watching her react to every sound she makes as Ymir kneads the soft mounds of her chest. When Ymir's eyebrows twitch and she moves her hands away from Historia’s body, she groans in want.

Ymir turns and retrieves the pint of ice cream from beside the bed. Historia wants to question her, but keeps her mouth shut as Ymir takes a small scoop and brings it to neither of their mouths, but instead sets it on one of Historia’s breast. The blonde’s breath hitches as the cold of the ice cream seeps into her skin and it starts to melt against her warmth.

Ymir mouth is on her almost instantly, licking away any traces of the ice cream, pausing the suck on her peaked nipple. Historia tugs at her wrists in an effort to hold onto Ymir, and has to opt to dig her nails into the palms of her hands. She bites her lip as Ymir performs the same action to her opposite breast.

Ymir’s tongue flattens on the plain between her breasts and she drags her tongue up to the dip of her collarbone, then she scoops up some more ice cream and trails it down her stomach to the throbbing between her thighs.

Ymir’s mouth is warm in contrast to the ice cream. Her hot, open-mouthed kisses make Historia squirm underneath her.

A pool of the cool melted ice cream has settled into her bellybutton, and Ymir dips her tongue into it, smiling as Historia’s cheeks turn an even darker shade of red. Her teeth scrape down her stomach and then she mouths at the apex between her thighs.

Her bound wrists are pulled at again and she arches under Ymir’s skilled menstruations.

“Stop struggling.” Ymir mumbles around her.

“I want to touch you.” Historia manages as Ymir’s tongue presses against her clit.

“Not today, sweetheart.” Ymir breathes right against her and Historia _whine_ _s._ It turns into a yelp when Ymir’s lips close around her clit and _suckle_ on the swollen nub. Ymir scoops up some ice cream with two fingers and slides them inside Historia’s wet entrance.

Her back arches off the bed, her eyes squeeze closed and her toes curl at the duel feeling of the cold being pushed inside of her, as well as Ymir’s slim fingers filling her. Historia gasps when Ymir removes her fingers, and then again when Ymir’s tongue drags along her slit.

She can feel the already melted liquid seeping from her throbbing lower lips, and Ymir’s tongue is there to greet its exit. Historia mewls in approval when Ymir’s tongue begins to dip inside of her. The sound seems to heighten Ymir’s vigor, because that’s when an arm wraps around her thigh and holds her firmly against Ymir’s face, and the brunette enthralls herself in the moist entrance of Historia’s vagina.

Historia’s heels press into Ymir’s back, that being all she can do to hold onto Ymir, as her tongue lavishes her. Ymir’s nose is pressed wonderfully against her clit, and her tongue flirts with her inner walls. When two fingers slide back into her, Historia calls out Ymir’s name and it feels as if it echoes through their apartment.

With the addition of her fingers, Ymir teases her insides. Historia rocks against her hand as Ymir’s fingers slide in to the hilt and her palm flattens against the trimmed blonde hair covering her lower zone. Those familiar fingers thrust into her and Historia throws her head back, releasing a loud moan that makes Ymir groan at her arousal.

“Fuck. You’re so fucking sexy, babe.” Ymir whispers, her voice firm declaring this a fact. Her tongue flattens back against her clit and she continues to thrusts her fingers into Historia. Each movement earning another pleased sound from the blonde. Her eyes are closed as she focuses only on the feeling of Ymir’s skin on her.

"Look at me." Ymir's breath is hot against her, her strong forearm wrapped around her thigh. Her slender fingers pushing in and out of her. Historia swallows and forces her eyes to slit open, following Ymir's commands.

Their sex life is always so vanilla until a particularly stressful day such as today had been. And, in an effort to distract her, Ymir would spice things up.

And so far, she hadn’t disappointed.

Ymir adds a third finger, stretching her wider and she sucks harder on her clit. A final hard thrust of her fingers is enough to break the pressure that has been building and Historia comes with a loud gasp of something that could be interpreted as Ymir’s name.

When Historia falls back into the bed, Ymir releases her grip on her and unties her wrists. The blonde’s wrists fall limp above her head as she tries to catch her breath.

“Do you still feel frustrated?” Ymir asks, her hand rubbing Historia’s smooth thigh.

“No, no. I feel so good.” Historia sighs and Ymir slides up, settling her hips between her legs. Historia wraps her legs around Ymir, rubbing a calf against the back of Ymir’s.

The freckled woman kisses her gently, Historia recognizes the taste of herself on Ymir’s lips but ignores it. She raises her hands slowly to Ymir’s head and tangles her fingers in her hair, the other hand holding the back of Ymir’s neck to hold her to her. One of Ymir’s hands settle in the hair on the nape of her neck and the other used to prop herself up over Historia.

When they part, Ymir turns and grabs the pint of ice cream, now half melted and soft from being ignored so long. Historia dips her fingers into the ice cream and offers it to Ymir, who takes her fingers into her mouth and sucks the ice cream from them, her eyes never leaving Historia’s as she does.

“Where’d the spoon go?” Historia asks after a pause.

“I'm actually not sure.”

“I guess we’ll finish it with our hand then.”

“Guess so.” Historia looks up at Ymir and runs her fingers through her hair, fully appreciating her hands now being free.

“Hey, babe.” Historia breaks the comfortable silence.

“Yeah.”

“Why are you still dressed?”


End file.
